Bill’s narrative was cut short by the sudden whizzing of a partridge from a bush just before me. Another and another soon followed. These creatures are very cunning. They are always on the watch, and when they hear or see any one coming, they get on the opposite side of some rock, or thicket, or tree, and remain concealed till the person comes near. Then they burst away with a startling, rushing sound, taking good care to keep the rock, or tree, or thicket between them and their enemy, until they are at a distance. At least a dozen of these fine birds broke away from their cover, but neither Bill nor myself had a chance for a shot. So we went on, greatly excited, however, by the game we had seen. It was not long before we met with another covey of partridges, and firing at random, I killed one of them. Great was my exultation, for I had never killed a partridge before; and beside, I had shot it with my new gun; and, more than all, Bill, who was expert at every kind of sport, had as yet met with no success. As I picked up the large and beautiful bird, still fluttering and whirling round in my hand, and held it forth to my companion, I imagine that I felt of as much consequence as Bonaparte did when he had conquered the Austrians in the famous field of Austerlitz. Excited by this triumph of skill and my new gun, we continued to push forward, though it was now snowing fast; and the ground was already covered to the depth of two or three inches. Frequently meeting with some kind of game, though we got little of it, we traversed one ridge after another, until we were involved in a sea of small and thickly wooded ridges and ravines, that crowned the top of the mountain. Scarcely heeding the course we took, or thinking of return, we proceeded for several hours. At last we came to a small hill, and it was agreed between Bill and myself that he should take the valley on one side, and I on the other, and we would meet beyond it.